


Blowback

by luxillume



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Deepthroating, Drabble, F/M, Hux is Not Nice, Kissing, Mild breath play, Oral Sex, Smoking, art inspired fic, blowjob, established somethingship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-10
Updated: 2017-06-11
Packaged: 2018-08-20 15:14:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8253656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/luxillume/pseuds/luxillume
Summary: It’s not a question, this time. He’s not asking, he’s ordering....





	1. Chapter 1

When Rey enters the General’s quarters, the cool recycled air smells different. He is reclining in the chair he often smokes in before the viewport, a haze of red smoke lingering about him.

 When she moves so the table is within view, she can see it’s not his usual tobacco in the bowl, but a clear pouch of a dry red-brown leaves.

 He glances up and catches her eye, catches the way she’s trying not to stare. The hint of a smile unfurls on his lips and he answers her unspoken question. The girl is insatiably curious.

 “Refined ryll. Same effect as Corellian brandy at half the cost.”

 She sniffs the strong sweet vanilla fragrance in the air and can almost taste it on her tongue. “Smells good.” she says softly.

 “Want to try it?’ he murmurs, eyes flicking down to her mouth.

 He doesn’t wait for an answer before saying “ Come here,” firm, authoritative, and she only fights with herself for a second before shifting closer to sit on his offered knee. He leans close, head nearly on her shoulder as he wraps his arm around her and brings the roll to her lips. Her hand comes up, fingers settling lightly upon his gloved ones. She takes a long drag on the roll, trying to emulate the smooth pulls she sees Hux do, but she’s never smoked before and the sharp burn of smoke hits her lungs unexpectedly. Hux moves the roll out of her way as she coughs violently, her hand covering her mouth. It feels like her lungs have clamped shut as her eyes water and she draws in a stuttering breath.

 Hux watches her with cool amusement, waiting for her to recover.

 “Like this.”

 He takes a long, silent hit of the roll and curls a strong hand around the back of her neck, dragging her forward to slot their mouths together, sudden and purposeful. There’s smoke under his tongue, restless and hot, and he breathes it to the back of her throat, feeding her.

 She swallows a shuddering gasp, swallows smoke, swallows the taste of his tongue, like vanilla and spice and something darker, something she can’t pinpoint, confident and sharp.

 He pulls away, hand dropping to her knee. His lips are full and bruised-looking against the red-grey of his hazy exhale. She chases after him, reaching out for the collar of his uniform to drag him in again, but he slides through her fingers like a shadow.

 He tilts his head back to look at her, lashes thick and eyes half-closed, making an appraising sound.

 “Hold it in.” She doesn’t know why, but she shuts her mouth. The smoke sits steady on her tongue, warms her lungs.

 “Don’t let it out until I give you permission.” He says, and his voice is easy, gentle, like he hasn’t just told her to stop breathing.

 It’s not a question, this time. He’s not asking, he’s ordering.

 She nods, any protest she might voice caught in her throat at the way he is watching her. His eyes are green-blue and intense, pupils blown, and it makes her shivery and self-conscious. The smoke burns the back of her throat, but she keeps holding her breath, counting the seconds, slow and stumbling.

 She can feel the high rolling over her mind like creeping late afternoon shadows, but she keeps counting, keeps holding out. She wants to please him. She wants it so desperately, so hard, her bones ache with it.

 His gloved thumb is rubbing in slow, comforting circles against her knee, hands warm even through the leather. His skin looks so smooth. She wants to put her mouth on it, rough him up, get her fingers inside him and find out if there’s a thread she can pull to make him fall apart, but she doesn’t.

 She doesn’t.

 She doesn’t even breathe.

 Her heart pounds out a warning in her throat, and her ribs feel like they’re caving, but she pushes past it. She’s only gone thirty seconds; she wants to do better.

 Hux murmurs, “Just a little longer,” hand sliding up her thigh, and she nods again.

  _Thirty-four. Thirty-five._

 There is lava in her bloodstream. She can’t breathe. She _won’t_ breathe.

  _Forty_ _. Forty-one._

 Her entire body is fighting her, but the last thing she wants to do is disappoint him.

  _Forty-four. Forty-five._

  _Forty-nine_ and black stars dance across her vision.

  _Fifty-three_ and her eyelashes are wet with tears and her chest hurts and everything is too warm and too tight and too much and she can’t decide what she wants more: for the slow, hungry ache in her belly to go away, or for this to drag on forever.

  _Fifty-six_ and Hux says, “Breathe.”

 She doesn’t think she’s ever heard a more beautiful word. She gasps for air and the smoke that hadn’t dissipated curls out, and she pitches forward, resting her head on his shoulder while she learns to be alive again.

 He presses a hand to the top of her spine, fingers fitting perfectly into the notches between the vertebrae, and when she regains a little control, it’s only to hear him saying, gently, “Good girl.”

 She shivers at the praise, rocking forward until she’s practically in his lap, breathing warm against his neck. She doesn’t speak, but her fingers fist the pristine collar of his shirt, to make sure he can’t pull away again.

 He smiles, nuzzles into her hair, and says “ Good girl. I think you could go longer next time.”

 She thinks about going longer without air, longer under his command, and groans softly into the skin of his neck. She doesn’t know how much she’s allowed to do, how far she can push this, but she really wants to kiss him.

 She says “I....may I kiss you?”

 Hux says “You’ve earned it.”

 She sinks her teeth into his neck, the soft spot in front of his ear and under his jaw, feels his pulse jump under her tongue, and rocks into his lap, panting against his skin. Everything smells like leather and smoke and sex and she can feel the hard press of his response against her inner thigh.

 “That’s not kissing, Rey.” He murmurs, setting the roll aside in the ashtray and grabbing her hips to keep her still, but he doesn’t sound like he’s complaining, until—

 “Don’t move.”

 She freezes.

 “You really like it when I tell you what to do?” He wonders, eyes scanning her face.

 She shouldn’t. She really shouldn’t, not when her entire life had been spent with other people dictating her movement. It should infuriate her, but it doesn’t. She’s spent her life fighting, always _fighting_ , and for once it is calming to be able to turn the decisions over to someone she trusts.

 She ducks her head so he won’t see the way she’s blushing, but of course he does. It’s his job to know everything that happens on his ship, and his eyes catch everything.

 He looks at her for a long moment, hands tight on her hips, and then his hand is cupping her head, gently pushing her down between his thighs and he says firmly, “I want your lips on my cock, don’t make a sound until I say so.”

 As it turns out, staying silent isn’t exactly hard when her mouth is full.

  
  
  
  
  
  



	2. Chapter 2

 

She rests her palms lightly on his thighs and sinks until his knees cage her ribs, his polished boots pressed against her calves. Her fingers inch toward his zipper and then hesitate. She takes a steadying breath and lifts her eyes to his, her pulse stuttering. Where Ren’s dark gaze feels like a sinkhole opening up to pull her soul from her body, Hux’s is sharp, extracting, pinning her in place with his pale eyes as he calculates her every movement. Uncertainty is not a trait he tolerates in his men, but here, with Rey, he is more lenient. The pressure of his hand lifts, one brow cocking in question. 

 

She can back out. 

 

She won’t. 

 

She continues her path to his zipper and the solid ridge of flesh beneath. She doesn’t know how to do this, let alone make it good, but it doesn’t matter. She’s seen enough holos to figure it out. He reaches down to free her hair from her ridiculous buns as warm, humid breath ghosts over his length. Smooth leather brushes her hair behind her ear, then slides down the line of her jaw until he is cupping her chin. He tilts her face up to his. 

 

“I won’t be kind.” He says softly, but his eyes are hard and the warning is clear.  She nods. 

 

He wraps his other hand around his cock and strokes once, twice as he runs his thumb over the swell of her bottom lip, presses down and in. 

 

“Open.” He says, and though his voice is low, it’s the firm tone of a command.  

 

He guides his cock to the soft wet cradle of her tongue. She sinks down, giving soft licks, her tongue delectably wet and swift as she swirls around him. She experiments, flicking and sucking before sealing her lips around the head and slowly enveloping him as far as she can.  After sliding down his length, she pulls back, hollowing her cheeks. She looks up at him, and the sight of her watching him, as if for approval while her lips stretched and bobbed around his cock is almost too much. 

 

He’s done letting her play. 

 

He’s made a career of seizing opportunities, ruthlessly when necessary, and this is no different. She’s not ready for it when his hands cup the back of her head and  _ pull.  _ There’s uncomfortable pressure as he hits the back of her throat, deeper than she’s taken him yet. She barely sucks in a breath through her nose before he pushes further, his length driving in to seal off her throat. 

 

She can’t breathe, and she can’t pull her head back. 

 

Her throat clenches, her stomach heaves. She whimpers, something he feels in the vibration around his shaft more than he hears, her fingers scrabbling against the material of his breeches where they rest against his thighs, curling into fists. 

 

“Relax.” He purrs. “Ten, nine…”

 

On one, he releases her and she sits back on her heels, coughing and gasping for air. His chin tilts fractionally, and he watches her from under the sweep of his pale lashes. 

 

He warned her. 

 

She purses her lips and holds his gaze defiantly as she slides back between his thighs. His fingers curl gently into her hair before his grip tightens and he shoves her back down his shaft.  This time the count starts at twenty. When he releases her, his thumb strokes her cheek softly before he guides her back down. He gives her less time to recover before she’s pulled down for a count of thirty, his voice a soft hum as he counts. She struggles to relax, to get him all the way in. Her throat spasms, and she sees a twitch in Hux’s sharp jawline as he feels it around his cock.

 

She gasps for air when he lets her up, but goes down again easily. 

 

Hux is enthralled by the hot flesh of her mouth and her wet throat. He needs  _ more _ . He thrusts deep, and she sees a twitch again as she grunts around his swollen length, tears pricking the corner of her eyes.  The next count starts at forty and her lungs are burning by the time he’s at fifteen. Each time, she borders on panic and then he is at two, one, and she’s able to suck in a breath, scavenging for precious air. The pattern of holding her breath and trying to catch it makes her lightheaded. 

 

She’s so busy trying to manage her breathing that she almost misses it.  There’s a breathy stutter while he’s counting.  He’s breathing harder. 

 

There’s a thrill that runs through her like an electric shock when she realizes she’s found the thread she was searching for, and she  _ pulls _ . She sucks hard at him as he withdraws, tongue swiping at the sensitive ridge and she’s rewarded with a hard clench of the thighs under her hands. 

 

_ She’s  _ doing this to him. 

 

It’s a high of a different kind, far better than the syrupy float of the ryll.   She has power here that has nothing to do with her force abilities, and she can be just as ruthless as the General. 

 

Hux keys in on the change immediately, and he smiles. She swallows hard. As rare as his smiles are, she has learned to interpret them, and this one is lethal around the edges.  She’s walked into the tusk-cat den with purpose, and he has no intention of denying her what she’s earned. He lets her up for air and pulls her down again, one hand cupping behind her head, the other sliding down to spread his fingers gently across her throat. He pulls hard and she’s surprised by his strength as he holds her in place, bucking his hips up. 

 

He  _ decimates  _ her. 

 

He’s fucking her mouth and just using her, the stretch in her jaw just on the edge of too much. Beneath the hand on her neck, he can feel his cock as he thrusts as deep as he can. She tries to catch her breath when she can, and when he doesn’t let up, the energy in the room shifts. Small loose items begin to vibrate, and still he doesn’t let up. They both know she can throw him across the room if she desires, so this small demonstration is nothing to him. 

 

“Rey.” He says sharply. “You can take it.” 

 

She tries to relax into it, sliding her tongue out and opening up, and the vibrations come to a halt. He lets her up for a moment, releasing the hand in her hair to stroke her, rub her shoulders before he bends down to look her in the eye, a lock of his hair falling across his forehead. 

 

“Last time.” He says, and before she can respond, he’s pulling her back down, his hips snapping up against her lips, his mouth opening on a shuddering gasp. “Sixty, fifty-nine….”

 

His silvery tongue slips into erratic counting gritted out between clenched teeth as the coil in his gut spirals tighter, hotter-then snaps. He sees stars, shoving her down his entire length. There’s a pulse against her tongue and the hot slick spurt of him firing down her throat, and the low guttural groan he releases is somehow like winning a prize. 

 

He releases her and she sits back, looking thoroughly debauched and  _ beautiful,  _ eyes shimmering in the low ambient light of his quarters as she sniffs and wipes the back of her hand across her mouth, catching her breath in soft pants. Hux quickly arranges himself and leans forward to cup her face, his thumbs wiping at the tear tracks. She reaches up and pushes the errant lock of hair back into place, although she likes how disheveled such a small thing makes him look.  

 

“Rey. You are…exceptional.” He murmurs, and the rare praise sparks something bright and warm in her chest as he pulls her forward and up into his lap. He uses his datapad to order a service droid that brings her a honeyed tea for her throat and a brandy for him, and they sip them between hot, smokey kisses that taste of vanilla and spice. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm in the middle of 3 long fics, so I thought I would shoot this one out there to both get it out of the way and as something short and fun to work on. 
> 
> I really wanted to throw some plot in, get artsy-fartsy with the PWP, that didn't happen. It is what it is. Hope everyone enjoys it for a couple minutes of their day :) 
> 
> Come talk to me @fatalfascination on tumblr. :)

**Author's Note:**

> This was inspired by Orange-lightsaber's Bad Choices and is my first (and possibly last?)attempt at Reyux.


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